HVZA (Book 3): Hudson Valley Zombie Apocalypse [Project Decimation] Read online

  Cam was also impressed that after being in isolation for so long, none of the Columbia students initially had any questions about what was going on in the outside world. Their only focus was to explain every detail of their research and experimental successes, as well as their failures. One of the Rangers finally interrupted to remind all the eggheads that they were going to be evacuated and should start packing as much of the equipment, chemicals, and data they needed. You would have thought they were a bunch of kindergartners let out of school for Christmas vacation by the level of enthusiasm and energy that ensued.

  Arjun and the cardiac surgeon returned with grim expressions. The other Ranger asked for a “sit rep” on Devereaux.

  “I don’t know what has kept him alive this long,” the surgeon replied, “except that he is one stubborn old bastard. His heart and kidneys are failing, and his liver is probably shot. If he lasts the night, I will be surprised. There’s no way he can be moved.”

  “I’ll let headquarters know the news,” the Ranger said, reaching for his radio.

  “He wants to see you,” the surgeon said turning to where Becks and Julian were standing, but when both of them started for the door with Arjun, the surgeon added, “No, just you Becks.”

  Taking a deep breath, Becks glanced over at Cam, who shot her a “you had better behave” look. This was a moment she had been dreading since she heard Devereaux was still alive, and despite all of her academic accomplishments and acts of bravery in the field, not to mention the incredible grit it took to survive on her own throughout the winter, at that particular instant she felt like a shy and inept freshman student. Devereaux was already pushing her buttons and she hadn’t even seen him yet.

  Walking down a long hall, they approached a small lab that had been turned into an office/bedroom. An unpleasant odor wafted out of the door, one that Becks had smelled many times in the hospital—the smell of impending death. Just a few years ago, Devereaux was a vibrant terror of a man; not exactly a picture of good health, but certainly one of considerable vitality and energy. Becks was not prepared for that pale, frail, ghost of a human being that now sat hunched in a wheelchair with IVs dripping into both withered arms. She never would have recognized him.

  “Dr. Devereaux?” she asked, almost in a whisper as she stopped short in the doorway.

  “Miss…Truesdale,” he emphasized between labored breaths.

  Sympathy vanished as Becks felt her blood pressure skyrocket at the obvious slight. She had been the first to recover from infection, thanks to medication she helped develop. In recognition for her heroic fight and contribution to a drug that would save countless lives, the university had subsequently bestowed upon her a medical degree, which she had more than earned, and was only one class shy of completing anyway. The story had not only been big news locally, but internationally, as well. There was no way Devereaux had not heard about her work and medical degree.

  “That’s Doctor Truesdale, actually,” she replied, trying not to clench her teeth too hard.

  “Oh yes…I do recall some publicity stunt…to make you an honorary doctor,” Devereaux replied with the same level of contempt he had always exhibited toward her.

  This time, she would not stand for it, death bed or not.

  “If you plan on being the same obnoxious asshole as the last time we met, then I’m going to leave right now,” Becks said in a low and dangerous tone that even made Arjun’s skin crawl.

  “And if you plan…on being the same egotistical…immature…bitch that you were, you might as well…leave right now,” Devereaux responded, straightening all the aching and brittle mean bones in his body to look as formidable as a dying man could.

  “Egotistical!? Immature!?” Becks shouted, barely able to restrain herself from ringing his scrawny neck.

  “You heard me! If you had just listened…to what I was trying to tell you…about the flaws in your methodology…and imprecise conclusions. But no…you took my criticism personally…and you gave up...abandoned the research.”

  Becks mind was reeling. Was this just more of his cruel tricks and mind games, or had she let her ego blind her?

  “So, that was all my fault?” she said in a more subdued tone, but still dripping with a heavy dose of anger.

  “You think academia is all shiny gold stars…and cupcakes at recess?” he continued, as his breathing seemed to improve and his voice grew louder. “Do you think the medical profession or the pharmaceutical industry wouldn’t have chewed you up and spit you out at that point in your life?”

  “Well…maybe if you had helped me. Maybe if you had one word of encouragement,” Becks said, almost in a whisper, sinking rapidly back into self-doubt.

  “What the hell did you expect from me?” Devereaux replied, in what almost seemed like a civil tone. “The last thing an old scientist wants to see is some brilliant young student still wet behind the ears coming up with an idea he didn’t think of himself.”

  Becks had never considered jealousy as part of his motive. Between that alien concept and his use of the term “brilliant,” she didn’t know what to think now. Before she could respond, however, the surgeon, Cam, and a few of the students rushed into the room. She hadn’t noticed that Arjun had run to get help when they started shouting at each other.

  “Becks, what the hell is wrong with you?” the surgeon yelled as he took Devereaux’s pulse and then put the stethoscope to his chest. “Are you trying to kill him?”

  “Get your goddamn hands off me,” Devereaux growled, pushing the surgeon away as best he could. “I haven’t felt this good in months. Miss Truesdale and I were just recalling the good old days.”

  Both Cam and the cardiologist gave Becks stern looks, but decided to let it go so as not to escalate the situation and aggravate Devereaux any further. It was also decided that Becks and Julian would spend as much time as they could with Devereaux, learning as much as possible about his ZIPs research.

  “But first,” Devereaux said, with something of a rare smile, “you all need to see Jaws.”

  For a moment, there was some doubt about Devereaux’s sanity. Did he actually want everyone to watch a shark movie?

  “Jaws is our most unique test subject,” Max offered, seeing the confused looks on everyone’s faces. “They are all in the basement. I’ll take you to them.”

  Max and Arjun led Becks and her team down several flights of stairs to an expansive basement which had a strange wall with several reinforced doors and many small windows. Max started a generator and then Arjun flipped on a bank of switches after Max signaled him. Everyone was momentarily startled when the sudden light revealed hideous zombie faces pressed against many of the windows. Julian had to suppress his urge to run.

  Beckoning everyone to a larger, central window, Max explained that they had welded together these rebar pens, and one of the engineering students had hooked up a control panel and wires so that everything could be handled remotely. He said that the ten zombies in the pens on the left had been injected with the gold nanoparticle serum. The two dozen zombies in the pens on the right had not been treated. But there was one pen in the center of the room that held someone special. Banging on the window and shouting to rile up its occupant, the six-foot-five-inch, 250 pounds of muscular zombie within grabbed the bars of his cage and growled in hunger.

  “Behold, Jaws!” Max said with great pride, albeit a somewhat twisted pride—like Dr. Frankenstein showing his creature to the world.

  “Ho-ly shit!” one of the Rangers exclaimed, which were the exact words on the tips of everyone’s tongues.

  “I can’t take credit for the hands, but the teeth are all mine,” the former dental student said, beaming.

  As the massive zombie growled, he revealed rows of razor-sharp, pointed, stainless steel teeth that Max had designed and bonded to the zombie’s real teeth. On the tips of his fingers were fierce-looking claws.

  “Human teeth really aren’t the most efficient for tearing into flesh,” Max continued
. “So what better animal to emulate than the shark, with its rows of deadly teeth. Of course, the real trick was to design them in a way that Jaws didn’t cut his own mouth to ribbons. And as for the razor claws on his hands, Erin had made those using heavy duty work gloves and scalpels.”

  “Why the hell would anyone make a zombie even more dangerous?” the cardiologist asked, completely dumbfounded and horrified.

  This time Arjun spoke up, and was clearly surprised that anyone would need to ask that question.

  “If you are creating a team of zombie ‘special forces,’ don’t you want to equip them with the deadliest weapons? I mean, it’s not like we could give them guns. But let us show you, as a demonstration is worth a thousand words.”

  Arjun turned a switch, which spun a gear that pulled a wire to open a door latch of one of the pens on the right. A female zombie in her forties staggered out and headed straight for the large viewing window. Julian jumped back as it pressed its half-decomposed face against the glass, trying to get to a meal.

  Max then released the door lock to Jaws’ pen, but he didn’t step out right away. What Becks’ team hadn’t noticed before, was that Jaws was wearing a harness attached to a heavy steel cable. Only after Max started turning a dial did Jaws get enough slack in the line to leave his pen—and make a beeline for the female zombie at the viewing window. The ensuing scene was so brutal—bloodier than a school of piranhas shredding a rodent—no one could continue to watch it to the end, but it gave them hope, as they had never dared to hope since the start of the apocalypse.

  Instead of just two powerful hands grabbing the female zombie’s arms, the scalpel-tipped fingers plunged deep into her flesh, slicing her biceps, triceps, and blood vessels. Then Jaws opened his mouth revealing his shiny, new, metal teeth, which he promptly sank into the female’s throat. Clenching down hard, he tore it out a huge chunk of meat, as arterial blood sprayed all over the viewing window. The female zombie dropped to the floor like a rock, and after swallowing his appetizer, Jaws bent down to start the main course. It was at this point that everyone had to turn away.

  “I guess you’ve all gotten the point,” Max said, slightly ashamed that he took such joy at his creation eviscerating a human body, even if it was a zombie human body.

  As Max reached for the dial to reel Jaws back into his cage, one of the Rangers clamped his beefy hand down to stop him.

  “Let him eat his fill,” the Ranger said. “It will make him easier to transport.”

  “Say what?” Julian asked, not looking forward to sharing a seat on the helicopter with Jaws.

  “I’ll check with HQ, but I’m fairly certain they are going to want all of these test subjects injected with the serum,” he explained, and then looked to Becks for her input.

  “It would certainly give us a big head start on the project,” she had to admit. “In fact, getting them to West Point should be a priority.”

  By the time they had gone back upstairs, the orders had already come through to secure the Project Decimation zombies and transport them to West Point immediately. As it was getting dark, it was also decided to keep Becks and her team at Columbia overnight, because there wasn’t enough room for everyone on a single flight. No one was thrilled with the idea, but it made the most sense.

  “Simple in and out, huh?” Cam said sarcastically to Becks, but then changed his tone. “You gonna be okay spending the night here?”

  Becks didn’t want to admit the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of her first night outside the protective walls of West Point since her ordeal in New Jersey, so she just did what any woman would—smiled and lied.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll be working with Devereaux all night so I will lose all concept of time and place. You know me.”

  “Yeah, I know you,” Cam said with a wink. “Able to lie through a charming smile.”

  “I’m more worried about you,” Becks said, quickly changing the subject. “You have to help get those zombies on the helicopter.”

  “These students know what they’re doing … I hope,” he said, as he gave her a light kiss on the cheek as he left her to her work. He then headed back down to the basement.

  Becks was used to Devereaux’s clipped sentences and rapid-fire way of making his points, and she truly felt like a student again trying to keep pace and take notes. Julian, however, had no idea what to expect and did the unforgivable—he interrupted Devereaux, twice, to ask him to slow down and give fuller explanations. His illness and limited energy made Devereaux ignore the first interruption, but the second was too much to bear.

  “Young man,” Devereaux began, summoning all the venom he had left, “In a few hours I’ll be dead and gone, but you’re still going to be stupid if you don’t pay attention!”

  Becks would never admit it, but she was relieved to have someone else there to take the brunt of Devereaux’s ire. And so the three worked late into the night scribbling notes and making audio recordings of every word of wisdom and piece of knowledge Devereaux had the strength to divulge. They had to take frequent breaks for the dying man to rest and receive attention from the cardiologist, but after every break, Devereaux had more labored breathing, seemed less focused, and most telltale of all, was less combative and cruel.

  Meanwhile in the basement, several students, Cam, and the Rangers were dressed in full biohazard gear and moving quickly to prepare the undead test subjects for transport. Using one of Erin’s homemade stun rods, they would temporarily render the zombie unconscious. It would then be gagged, dressed in a biohazard suit to prevent spreading infection, and then its legs were lashed together and its hands were bound tightly behind its back.

  Jaws was a little more work, as he required a special Hannibal Lecter-type mask. They also removed his claw gloves. It wasn’t easy jamming his enormous body into a biohazard suit, which was clearly not an extra-large size. They also made sure to double up on the hand and leg restraints.

  It was also a lot of work making sure none of the zombies would be able to get loose during transport, but that part was nothing compared to carrying them up all those flights of stairs. Devereaux had naturally insisted that his zombie soldiers be the tallest and strongest physical specimens they could capture, which of course, made sense.

  The two Rangers carried one zombie up the stairs by themselves, but it took three students and Cam to handle one. By the fourth and fifth trips, however, everyone was exhausted and winded, and it took all six of them to drag, carry, and maneuver Jaws up the long staircases and out to the roof. Once all of the test subjects were gathered, the helicopter hovered overhead while each zombie was attached to the cable and hoisted aboard.

  The pilot was not a happy camper. Even though they were all securely tied, he insisted that the zombies be placed in a big cargo net which was closed with steel clips and then strapped to the deck of the helicopter. One of the Rangers agreed to ride along to keep an extra set of eyes on the bizarre squirming and groaning cargo, which lifted off into the darkness, passing over the huge herd below that continued to inch its way northward.

  By 3am, only Becks and Devereaux were still awake. Even Julian had fallen asleep, face-first onto his stack of notes.

  “Enough, enough,” Devereaux finally said, as Becks had continued to pepper him with questions. “I can’t…tell you every thing I…know. You…know enough…to…make Project Decimation…a success.”

  “Should I get the doctor?” Becks asked, referring to the cardiologist.

  “You’re…supposed to be a doctor. What do…you think?” he said with his unique brand of sarcasm.

  “I think,” she said, pausing for a moment, “we might as well let the doctor sleep. And I just want to thank you for sharing all this incredible knowledge with –”

  “Oh… shut the hell…up!” Devereaux said in true, nasty Devereaux style. “Don’t …start kissing…my ass now…just because…I’m dying. Just make…this work…and save…the fucking world…god damn it.”

&n
bsp; Becks felt herself getting angry again. It took a lot for her to try to say something nice, and he just threw it back in her face. Before she could respond however, Devereaux’s long, rasping exhale was not followed by a labored inhale. She waited a few moments and then searched his neck for a pulse. She then ran her hand over his eyes to close them, and pulled a sheet off the bed to cover him. Then she curled up on that bed and fell fast asleep.

  I’ll need every minute of rest I can get, she thought before drifting off. Because starting tomorrow, saving the fucking world will be on my shoulders, god damn it…

  Chapter 10

  The day dawned with red, ominous clouds traversing the eastern horizon, which soon began to spread and thicken to a decidedly dark gray gloom. Thunderstorms and high winds moved up the coast so the helicopter fleet at West Point was grounded until the weather improved. AZA, every plane and helicopter was precious, and essentially irreplaceable, and not to be risked unless it was an absolute emergency.

  News of Devereaux’s death brought an even more somber mood, and Becks was surprised to see that tears were actually being shed. Sticky Pete said something about preparing the body and carrying out Devereaux’s last wishes, and asked that Becks and her team be on the roof in an hour for a brief service.

  Death was so prevalent AZA that funeral services were a luxury in which few survivors could indulge. Becks was not looking forward to any emotional and sentimental bullshit about a man she detested, but she would stand out in the rain with the others, at least as a show of respect for a scientist whose efforts just might save the human race—although why it had to be on the roof, she couldn’t begin to imagine, unless he wanted to be buried in their vegetable garden?

  A carton of those cheap, disposable slickers was passed around, which did nothing to prevent the wind-driven rain from pelting the faces of the funeral party as they filed out onto the roof. Devereaux’s body was already there—naked and strapped to a piece of plywood!